


Something's Gotta Give

by lemonsorbae



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Neighbors, Baker Dean Winchester, Castiel and Dean Winchester are Neighbors, Cats, Crack, Fluff, Fluff and Crack, M/M, Misunderstandings, Neighbors
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-29
Updated: 2018-03-29
Packaged: 2019-04-14 07:54:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,208
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14131578
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lemonsorbae/pseuds/lemonsorbae
Summary: The one where the guy who lives above Dean is having crazy, wild sex every fudgin’ night, and Dean’s about as done with the store bought baked goods the dude keeps giving him as he is of the questionable noises that keep Dean up all night.





	Something's Gotta Give

**Author's Note:**

> Written for a [prompt](http://herowords.tumblr.com/post/172331012721/prompt-4-when-u-have-time-if-u-feel-like-it-cas).

 

 

 

To say that Dean’s new apartment is not the Taj Mahal would be an understatement. But it had been cheap, and Dean had been desperate, so he’d signed on the dotted line without much fanfare.

And he’s not high maintenance, he can deal with the washing machine that clanks, and the old carpet, and the missing screens on all the windows, but what he can’t deal with is the questionable noises coming from the apartment above him. Every. God. Damn. Night.

He waits a week, hoping it will stop. The noise can’t go on forever, right? But when it’s been eight days, and it’s 3 o’clock in the morning, and Dean’s staring up at the ceiling, drawn from sleep by a wild  ** _thump_** , it’s time to address the issue.

Throwing back the covers, Dean finds his slippers - feet sliding across the carpet in the dark - and stands, marches out of his apartment full of righteous fury. Outside Dean climbs the steps and then he’s standing in front of Weird Noises’ door, and his fist is falling against the door in three sharp knocks. 

It’s a minute before the guy answers. He pulls open the door, frowning, and blinks at Dean in the yellow-y glow of his porch lamp. 

“Yes?” His voice is rough, gravelly, and for a beat Dean doesn’t speak. Because truly the dude is really rocking the JBF look and someone as good looking as he is this early in the morning is going to take some time for Dean to process. So he stares at him - blue eyes droopy, dark hair a complete mess where it stands on end atop his head - because Dean is especially creepy like that.

Another time (like a time that’s not shitass o’clock in the morning), and another place Dean probably would have hit on the guy already. As it were, that’s not why he’s here. 

“Can you keep it down up here? I gotta be up early tomorrow.”

The man’s frown softens, the side of his mouth tugging up into a smile. “I apologize. That was Michael. He can be very loud when he’s excited.”

“He can- okay,” Dean stammers, because the dude says it like they aren’t talking about him and this guy,  _Michael_ , going at before the sun's even up. “Well it sounds like fun up here, but uh- are you done? ‘Cause I really need my sleep, man.”

The guy nods. “Yes, I believe he’s finished. I’ll make sure he keeps quiet for the rest of the night. Again, I apologize.”

“Thanks uh-”

“Castiel.”

“Thanks, Castiel.”

After that Dean trudges back down to bed, and waits, eyes trained on the ceiling. When he hears nothing, he’s finally able to roll over and sleep. 

~

When Dean gets home from work there’s a plate of cookies on his doorstep and a note. 

_Dear Freckles (I’m sorry, but I couldn’t help but notice them last night, they really suit you - and you never told me your name.)_

_I know I’m not able to give back the sleep you missed, but I can give you cookies. I hope you find them enjoyable._

_Thank you,_

_Castiel_

Dean eyes the cookies. They’re obviously store bought. But at least the guy tried. 

~

Two days later the noises are back. It’s only midnight this time, at least there’s that, but it could be 7 o’clock at night and Dean would still be perturbed. He makes the walk up to Castiel’s apartment and raps on his door. 

“Gettin’ a little loud again, Cas.” Dean says when the door swings open. Castiel looks much like he did the last time, but his eyes are brighter, and his cheeks are flushed. Goddamn post-coital looks good on the guy. 

Castiel’s face goes sheepish, and he blinks at the ground for half a second before bringing his eyes to meet Dean’s again. “Crowley was getting rough. I didn’t realize how loud he was being. I apologize.”

“ _Crowley_?” Dean asks, shocked. What kind of dick parents name their kid Crowley?

“Yes. He isn’t my favorite by any stretch of the imagination, but I do still have a soft spot for him. I’ll keep him quiet.”

Dean nods, “Thanks.” That’s probably all that needs saying, but Dean doesn’t move, staring at Castiel, not ready to say good bye. “Uh, thanks for the cookies. Nestle Toll House?”

“Yes,” Castiel nods in confirmation. “I’m gald you enjoyed them.”

“Yeah. Thanks.” Okay now he’s getting redundant. For a beat he shifts on his feet, wracking his brain for something else to say. “I guess I’ll just-” he hefts a finger over his shoulder. 

“Alright.” 

But as Dean turns to leave a hand closes around his wrist and he finds Castiel looking at him with wide eyes. “What’s your name?”

Dean smiles. “Dean Winchester.”

“Good night, Dean Winchester. I hope you sleep well.”

“Okay,” Dean manages, backing away. “You uh- you sleep well, too.” 

As he walks back towards his apartment he asks himself when Castiel went from Weird Noises to Castiel, the first man to have caught Dean’s eye in a very,  _very_ long time. 

~

_Dean (I very much like your name),_

_Again I felt I should offer you something for keeping you up. I hope you enjoy pie. It’s lemon._

_Castiel_

The pie has a price tag on it and everything. There’s no way it’s going to be half as good as Dean’s, but letting it go to waste would be, well, a waste. Store bought or not, it’s still pie. 

~

Monday passes without incident, Tuesday does, too. But when there’s another loud thump sounding right above Dean’s head, he’s almost relieved. It’s not that he’s been looking for another excuse to talk to Castiel, except for that it is. 

Climbing out of bed Dean almost smiles. 

“It was Samandriel,” Castiel offers before Dean even has to say anything. “He’s still fairly young and just learning the rules. But I’ve spoken with him, and I don’t think it will be happening again.”

“Okay,” Dean offers, because he’s not sure what else there is to say. Cas has a different partner four days out of the seven, and at this point Dean’s a little less worried about the loud noises, and more concerned with how he gets a spot on Cas’s list. Right at the top would be nice. 

Castiel doesn’t close his door, and Dean doesn’t move from the Welcome mat. Silence creeps between them, but maybe if Dean waits just a few more seconds, he’ll have something else to say. 

Eventually Cas is the one to break the silence. “How was the pie?”

“Good,” Dean nearly shouts. When he’s calmed himself the fuck down, he repeats himself. More quietly. (More normal.) “It was good. Thanks for leaving it for me.”

Castiel’s eyes twinkle. “I’m glad to hear it.” 

After that there really isn’t anything more to say. It’s almost 4 am, and Dean’s certain he’s not the only one who needs to sleep. He reaches out a hand and lets it rest on Cas’s shoulder, squeezing gently. “Good night,” he says. 

“Good night,” Castiel responds, a small smile curving his lips. 

Dean’s not even to the stairwell before he’s mentally ripping himself a new asshole because that was weird as fuck. There was no need to touch Cas, he’d just  _wanted_ to.  _It was still fucking weird_ , he reminds himself. And maybe Cas won’t ever answer his door again. 

~

The donuts don’t come as a shock when Dean finds them resting on his stoop. There’s half a dozen in the box, all different flavors, and the accompanying note is taped to the lid. 

_Dean,_

_I wasn’t sure which kind you prefer so I settled on an assortment. Samandriel sends his regards and apologies. ;)_

_\- C_

He’s used to the desserts and notes from Cas by now, but seeing Samandriel’s name in print shakes him a little. So Cas talks about Dean to his conquests. Great.

~

After Samandriel there’s Gabriel and brownies, then Raphael and cupcakes, and Gadreel and lemon bars, and when Dean storms upstairs yet again, he waits for Castiel to open the door with fists clenched and teeth grit. 

This time when Castiel’s door swings open, he’s holding a cat under one arm, petting it’s head with the other. 

“Are you an escort or something?” Dean blurts, because even Dean - who’s a big fan of sex,  _huge fan_  - doesn’t get laid as often as Cas does. 

Cas’s classic frown is back, and he studies Dean quietly for a beat. “You think I’m a male sex worker?” He asks, head tilted to the side. The cat in his arms squirms, and Castiel brings it to his chest, letting it head butt his hand, then scratching behind its ears. 

“Yes?” Dean offers, but then the way Cas is looking at him is more confused than guilty. “No? I don’t know, dude. You’ve got thumps, and bangs, and plops coming from up here all night. I assumed-”

“That I was having sex?”

Dean scrubs a hand at the back of his neck. “Yeah?”

With a shake of his head, Castiel points to the cat in his arms. “Dean, this is Michael, my cat. Lucifer is also a cat, as is Samandriel, and Gabriel, and Raphael, and Gadreel.”

“Wait, you have  _six_  cats up here? Isn’t that illegal or something?” And for some reason the fact that it’s fucking  _cats_  making all the noise makes so much more sense than Cas having an un-tamable libido. 

Nodding, Castiel opens his door wider to permit Dean inside. “Come in,” he says, “please.”

Inside the place is tidy. With six cats running amok Dean assumed Castiel’s apartment would be covered in cat hair and smell like crap, but all he can smell is lavender. 

“I adopt and foster cats and kittens. That’s why I have so many. Some will go to new homes when they are ready, some will stay with me for the rest of their lives.”

Dean’s eyes dart around the apartment, seeing 1, 2, 3, 4 cats all peering at him curiously from behind some piece of furniture or another. “I’m an idiot,” he mutters. But when he looks at Cas, the man is smiling gently at him. 

“You’re not an idiot, Dean. How were you to know it was cats making all the ruckus?”

“Yeah, I guess.” Dean shrugs. 

“I won’t lie to you, Dean,” Castiel states, eyes and nose crinkling with his growing smile. “I’ve grown quite fond of our visits. Even if they are in the middle of the night.”

Now Dean’s smiling, cheeks flushing. “Me too,” he admits.

“Perhaps now we can find other reasons to meet.”

Dean feels light now, happy. So Cas isn’t running a Den of Iniquity, he’s just doing the animal world a solid. And while Dean’s no one to judge how many people someone sleeps with, he feels a strange sort of relief that he was wrong about Castiel. “What are you doing tomorrow afternoon?” 

“Not a thing.”

“Awesome. I think it’s time you learn how to actually _bake_ baked goods.”

“You bake?” Castiel questions, head tilting in that adorable way of his. (That’s right,  _adorable_.) 

“I own a bakery,” Dean explains, “hell yeah I bake.”

Castiel is nodding now, smile still plastered on his face making Dean feel warm. “I’d like that very much.”

After Dean scribbles down the address to his bakery he and Castiel say their good nights and Dean enters his apartment with a dopey grin on his face.  _Cats_ , he thinks to himself as he drifts back to sleep.  _Cats_.  

~

The following afternoon Castiel arrives at Dean’s bakery at 1 o’clock on the dot. It’s kinda strange seeing him in something other than pajamas, but at least the guy’s hair is still a complete disaster. 

“You ready to get your bake on?” Dean asks, when Castiel breezes through the door. He hands Cas an apron that matches his own, and puts up a _Closed For Lunch_ sign. 

“I think a more appropriate question would be ‘Are you ready to burn things while I stand in the corner and laugh?’“

Dean lets out a chuckle. “You’re not going to burn anything. I’m supervising, remember?”

“It’s happened before, Dean.” Castiel loops the apron over his head, turning his back to Dean. “Tie me up?”

_God yes_ , Dean thinks, cheeks burning, but then he reminds himself - and his dick - to stay calm.  _We’re baking cookies for fuck’s sake_ , he tells himself as he ties Castiel’s apron strings into a messy bow.  _Remain calm_.

Dean’s calm for all of ten minutes and then he’s standing at Cas’s back, showing him the most efficient way to use an electric beater. Cas smells clean, citrisy Dean thinks, and his back is warm against Dean’s front and yeah, there is not a shred of calm to be found.

“Am I doing it?” Castiel asks, neck craned so his eyes meet Dean’s. 

Dean smiles, then moves in to brush his lips against Castiel’s. When Dean pulls away, Castiel’s flushed and grinning wide. “Yeah,” Dean says. “You’re doing it.”

And so maybe Cas makes a lot of noise (or his cats do, whatever) Dean reasons it’s not so bad anymore; as long as he’s there to make noise with him.

 

**Author's Note:**

> Cross posted from [tumblr](http://herowords.tumblr.com/post/172330163011/somethings-gotta-give) . If you liked it, give it a kudos and a reblog - help spread the love, yo!  
> And don't hesitate to [come say "hi"](http://www.lemonsorbae.tumblr.com)!


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